Storm Clouds and Stormy Boys
by Digitallace
Summary: A short PWP. Harry and Draco amuse themselves on a rainy day


Author's Note: I wrote this in response to a prompt by alaerys while on Twitter the other night. She was holding my plot bunnies hostage and refused to release them without a prompted ficlet. Her prompt was rain and I'm fairly certain that smut was implied. This can't be qualified as anything besides PWP, so consider yourselves warned. And Happy Birthday Koorimechick. I'm sorry I didn't have an update ready of Ten Steps, but hopefully this will bring birthday cheer.

Storm Clouds and Stormy Boys

Draco leaned against the windowpane, pressing his forehead to the glass and frowned. Droplets worked their way down the other side, looking for all the world like ribbons of despair – or at least that's how they seemed to Draco, who was sullen and moody at the weather's nerve. How dare it spoil his day with its horrid wetness? How was he supposed to play Quidditch without mussing his hair? Spells were all well and good, but while they might protect his flaxen locks from the actual drops, he still remained vulnerable to the sticky moisture in the air.

"Have I mentioned how much a hate the rain?" he muttered to no one in particular.

"A few times now, actually," Harry responded from his armchair on the other side of the room. Apparently the Gryffindor was perfectly content to use this rainy day to read_romance novels_, of all things.

I still don't understand why you read that drivel," he commented, hoping to bring Harry down to his own level of misery, it was lonely down there after all.

"Would you like me to show you?" Harry asked, quirking a dark eyebrow in challenge.

"Pfft," Draco scoffed noncommittally. "As if I'd be entertained by swashbuckling pirates and maidens in distress."

"There are no maidens," Harry pointed out. "Besides, I think you would make a cute pirate."

"Pirates aren't _cute_, Potter. They're surly and grimy and…" any other words to describe the lot failed him so he contented himself with a finishing sneer that seemed to encompass all of his loathing.

Harry merely chuckled and went back to his book.

Draco turned to the window, the stormy grey clouds mirroring his mood. He hated that Harry was able to sit there so contented and he was left to pace and sulk. "Entertain me," he demanded at last, sitting on the arm of Harry's chair.

"You're an insufferable, brat. Did you know that?" Harry teased and moved over enough that Draco could slip down and share the chair with him.

"I'm bored," he whined, a delicious pout on those adorable, pink lips.

"There is plenty to do inside, Draco," Harry told him.

"Like what?" Draco asked, grey eyes alight with mischief.

"Well," Harry whispered, running his fingers along the blond's jaw line, dipping them into his hair, "we could do a bit of this," he said, before trailing his tongue along the same path his fingers had traveled, stopping to pull Draco's earlobe into his mouth and suck. "Or this," he added, placing feather light kisses along the man's cheeks. "And then there is always this," he breathed, reaching down to cover Draco's groin with his hand, pressing against the hardness already forming there.

Draco suddenly lost the ability to complain as Harry's lips found his and pressed him into a tongue grazing, teeth nibbling, passionately searing kiss. Harry grinned as he maneuvered in the chair so that he was straddling Draco's lap. This was always the best way to shut the man up when he was being extraordinarily petulant.

His fingers slid beneath the collar of Draco's shirt and tugged, tearing the buttons from their holes and sending a few of them pinging to the floor with a metallic clatter. "Potter, that shirt was one of my favor-" Draco whined, but Harry interrupted him with a single finger over the man's lips.

"Shh," he chastised. "I don't want to hear another sound from you unless it's moaning or heavy breathing, do you understand?" he asked, his eyes alight with emerald power. Draco's body shuddered at the sight and his own gray gaze darkened with lust. Instead of answering, because he knew that would only earn him some sort of punishment, he sucked the finger pressed against his lips into his mouth, relishing in his tiny triumph when Harry shivered.

Harry Potter wasn't the only powerful wizard in the room.

Letting the finger slip from his mouth, Draco pulled Harry back to him for a hungry kiss, their tongues tangling and twisting in an erotic dance. Eyes half-lidded, Harry broke the kiss with a gasp, his hands roaming over the smooth muscles he'd exposed. Draco's hair was already mussed, a fact Harry knew better than to point out, but he adored it that way. It made Draco look even more deliciously fuckable than he usually was.

When his fingers dropped to the waistband of Draco's trousers, the blond groaned and shifted to give Harry better access. "Eager, are we?" Harry asked, but all Draco did was groan again in response when Harry's nimble fingertips began to deftly unwrap his prize. Harry slithered down the seat of the chair to land on his knees in front of the blond, tugging Draco's trousers down as he went. It was a much better vantage point to look upon the glory that was his lover's cock – long, thick and weeping for Harry's touch.

He debated making Draco squirm for a bit longer, but in truth, Harry didn't think he had the willpower to resist the blond for very long. Draco was at his most beautiful when he was stripped down and vulnerable for Harry's eyes alone. His gaze raked over his lover's pale flesh, already covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he panted and writhed from Harry's fingers kneading into his thighs.

The sweetest sound Draco made was when he whimpered in delight, and Harry was rewarded with that very sound as he descended on Draco's prick, swirling his tongue around the head to lap up the salty liquid that had pooled there. Whimpers turned to moans, which soon melted into erratic, guttural sounds as Harry took him into his mouth and sucked.

Draco's fingernails were digging into the arms of the chair, making little half-moon slices in the leather and he seemed to be clinging to it as if he were trying to prevent himself from falling into a deep chasm. The sounds above Harry shifted again when his hands ghosted over Draco's arse, the already moistened finger trailing down his crack to tease his puckered entrance.

"Yes," Draco moaned, his tone breathy and gasping.

Harry smiled around the intrusion in his mouth and pressed his finger forward, so slowly that he thought it might drive Draco mad. By the time he'd pushed entirely inside, his ears were ringing with a chanted chorus of his name being gasped over and over above him. He knew Draco's body like he knew his own, and with one hook of his finger and one last cheek-hollowing suck, Harry had the blond keening and groaning as his orgasm took him and sent hot fluid pulsing down Harry's throat.

He released the blond with a wet pop, and stared up the line of Draco's perfect body, still shuddering with the last vestiges of his climax. "You're so much easier to tolerate when you're a puddle of goo in my hands," he commented, grinning as Draco attempted to sneer and failed.

Harry moved up to plant a lingering kiss on his lover's lips, caressing the roof of Draco's mouth with his tongue because he knew the blond loved the taste of himself in Harry's mouth. Malfoy's vanity seeped into every aspect of his being it seemed. "I think that more than made up for the fact that I missed out on Quidditch today," Draco murmured when they broke apart.

"Well, it's not raining anymore," Harry pointed out, gesturing to the sunlight that was already drying the raindrops on the windowpane. "You could still go out."

Draco pulled Harry tighter against him and shook his head. "I think I'd rather stay in. Besides, I have a favor to return," he added, waggling his eyebrows as he stood up, Harry's legs still wrapped around his waist, and carried him to the bedroom.

Author's Note: Did I fulfill the prompt?


End file.
